


Fireside Prayer

by Star_Nymph



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Avvar, Asperger Inquisitor, Asperger Syndrome, Avvar Cullen Rutherford, Body Worship, F/M, Oral Sex, Ritual Sex, Smut, Stripping, Teasing, Vaginal Sex, praying kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-15 23:00:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18679063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_Nymph/pseuds/Star_Nymph
Summary: After seizing a victory from the hands of the lowlanders, Thane Lion-Heart seeks the counsel of his augur and the prayers of his Gods.





	Fireside Prayer

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this fic in Dec 2017 and within a few days decided to delete it off AO3 because I was embarrassed about it. Which was pretty sad, because for something that was meant to be porn with plot, I really loved the direction I had taken Cullen and Eurydice. That and, honestly, it's pretty good smut in my opinion.
> 
> So, fuck it. Maybe it's cringey Avvar smut but it's my cringey Avvar smut and I love it. If it comes to haunt me down the line, at least I had fun writing this silly thing. I hope you guys enjoy it as well. If you have any comments or helpful tips please feel free to write something. I’ll definitely appreciate the feedback! Thank you for reading!

It is a term of agreement and a sign of respect to make oneself known in the domain of their augur. He could quiet his footsteps and bring them to little less than a hush among the grass and wind, but she would know well that he was here. The Gods would whisper his name to her, tell her if he meant harm or ill, and in this place it would take no effort but the flick of her wrist to strike him across the chest with the Lady of Skies’ lightning. So he let his shield clank against a tree, his feet squelch in the wet mud and swallow puddles of the forest floor, let the animals and wisps see his dark eyes adorned with a splash of crimson, let the lion teeth hanging from tarnished leather around his neck rattle against each other with every step.

He crossed the rickety bridge with its snapping ropes and feeble, termite devoured wood and came to the entrance of her hut—a hole smashed into the hollow body of a dying tree, draped with cloth to keep out the cold.

Above him he heard a vicious hiss, twanged with warning. A gray fox with ugly, hazardous teeth and wild muck covered fur sat perched on a branch. He stopped to regard the creature, meeting its cagey gaze, and allowed it to size him up. It scattered its claws over the bark beneath it and then lowered its sight.

_What do you come for?_

“Peace.” Answered the good Thane and to give proof, he placed his sword—rusted with blood—and his shield—dented and scorched—on the ground at his feet.

The fox blinked and yawned. The cloth slid open without hands to guide it.

“Enter, Thane Cullen Lion-Heart.”

Into a fog of smoke, perfumed incense, and burning flowers he went and through it he swished his hand, allowing it to cling to his limbs like the greedy fingers of a lover. On the other side sat a large circular hearth rimmed with stone and bursting with flame, bathing the room with warmth and orange light. The embers cracked, snapping sparks in greeting at him, the smoke almost seeming to bow as he scanned it and then squinted past it to the form on the other side.

“Hakkon still holds you, my Thane. You went to battle without my protection? So bold.” A graveled, toneless voice took his attention and he watched as the form morphed itself into a sharp faced and gawky elven woman, her steel colored hair wild and untamable, save for a single knotted braid which hung down the side of her face. She leaned her back on a table covered in rock and jars, above her head hanging ivy, vegetables, and animal pelt, and played with something between her fingers. It was a jagged crystal the glowing blue of ice—a rune for his sword, had he come to her earlier.

Cullen stopped short of the bear pelt sitting at the hearth’s alter, polite as he was of the augur’s rules and hospitality, and crossed his arms over his chest. “It was a sudden attack. The lowlanders thought an ambush would have us scattering and did not think we were prepared for such things. Stupid mutts; the lot of’em.” Such a loathing statement when in truth the memory of the encounter, barely an hour old, had awakened the primal need in him to destroy and even still it hummed within him with delight. In the eyes of those fools he saw an awe and roared as he brought his blade down—roared like the lion he was, true and valiant, with the power of his Gods on his side, and the cheers of his men to keep him going.

Now his heart pumped in his chest, his body hungering for another victory and the promise of chanting praise, and though he stood stoic, his lips bowing down in a stubborn frown, under his skin he felt the life in him rage for more. 

“The smell of iron follows you.” The augur’s stare shredded into him as she bit down on the crystal and spoke, “Do you come for me to serve or for you to distract me?”

He clicked his tongue just so and irritably he answered, “It was decided a celebration was in order, despite my reservations otherwise. Such revelry is not to my taste—and I want no part in the supposed ‘ballad’ they have created in my honor. It is horrid—like cats in heat screeching at the moon. I couldn’t stand it.” That was an understatement. The banging of the drums, screeching wail of his drunken clanmates, and shrill laughter of couplings mingling in the woods bashed against his brain like a whacking mace. It was all he could do to retreat quietly before a gaggle of giggling, smashed women came along to poke fun at his red face, their composed Thane turned bashful pup by a badly sang tune and unwanted attention.

But the augur cared little for his ears or his nerves—or his roundabout answers.

Pushing herself from the table, the augur weaved herself through the smoke as she climbed onto the stones of the hearth and walked along them. She stood tall just inches above him, her eyes staring down at him through silvery locks, stealing the air from his lungs. “You tell me things I am aware. I saw the victory signal in the sky—I heard Hakkon sing your name from the ashes of my flame. You are wasting my time, unwise one.” Any other woman he might have snapped at if she had so brazenly touched him without his consent but as the augur reached under his chin with two bony fingers and tilted his head up, Cullen could do nothing but look at her and dissolve into a softer man at the sound of her voice, “Do you come for my counsel, Good Thane, or for the taste of my flesh?”

He sighed and willed his hands to work and to find her braid, “I come for your heart and for your cry, Eurydice.” He whispered, then kissed the braid with all the reverence he reserved only for her and the Gods.

The augur blinked slowly, her eyes tracing his chapped lips as he dragged his tongue across them, and then she pulled away. “Strip and sit at my hearth. I want to see all of you.”

As she pointed to a basin and cloth on the other side of the room, a stream of water magically appeared over head to pour into the large metal bowl. Cullen went to it with an undulated sway in his hips, smirking to himself as he was already freeing his feet from his furred boots. He used his teeth to undo the knotted rope around his gauntlets and yank them off, dropping them to the floor. From his shoulders fell his prized pelt of stunning gold, and what followed after was his armor and breeches.

He kept the lion’s teeth around his neck, if only to remind her of what he was.

Exposed in the glow of the firelight, Cullen took the clean cloth and dipped it in the warm water until soaked. He brought it above his head and wringed the water out over his face and neck, trickling down his spine and his battle worn back. Scrubbing his shoulders and biceps, then his chest, he washed away the specks of blood and the stripes of war paint—white and red and a line of gold which traveled from his chin to the center of his chest to just past his belly button.

And he shivered, feeling Eurydice’s sight on him as he bathed, peeling him down to the soul, demanding to see everything he offered; the wicked little lass with her silent possession. Yet he kept his back to her as he washed his face and freed from his braid his shining yellow mane, soft coils tumbling over his shoulders, taking some smug satisfaction in her impatience. Still, he wouldn’t keep her waiting for long as the shivers brought upon by her presence and the memory of his victory coursed through to his hardening cock. He took hold of it as it twitched with need and stroked it roughly; and knowing he was being watched, he struggled to contain his own fevered moans, closing his eyes and biting his weathered lips instead of revealing such things completely to her.

Behind him, he heard her moving, something shattered in a clenched fist, and the fire roaring to greater heights by her command. “Father and my Lady of the Sky, Gods of above and below, of nature and knowledge. Heed my call, for I—your dreamer and messenger, bearer of your thoughts—bring gifts and praise to your feet.”

The drone of her voice lured him from the water and towards the hearth, where upon she sat on its stones and stroked the blaze with only her hand. Cullen came to her on his knees and laid himself down on the pelt. He observed as Eurydice dangled her legs in front of him but did not pay him any mind as she scattered the shards of the ice rune across the fire and let them spark into nothing one by one. “A gift to you from your humble servant.” She said as the flames wrapped around her hand and the fire bowed to her as if to kiss her knuckles.

The Thane cared little for the display. His fingers itched to touch her, his mouth becoming dry from his thirst as a sliver of her nude thigh peeked out from a hole in her skirt. How much better such a thing would look with his bite embedded in her skin.

He took hold of one of her ankles and kissed the top of her foot.

She barely blinked an eye as she spoke to the fire, “For you, Hakkon Wintersbreath, the good Thane Lion-Heart offers his victory over the lowlanders…”

Cullen spied the hearth only briefly before returning to what he deemed the more intriguing pursuit; his hands traveling up the length of her calves, his mouth lavishing a wet path in his wake, tasting her warm flesh, grazing his lips along the tender flesh of the back of her knee. He sighed as he found the tarnished ends of her skirt and pushed it higher, his nails raking red lines up her thigh.

Farther up he went, spreading her thighs apart. Still Eurydice went on with the prayer; diligent as ever. “He sings your name with the swing of sword,” She moved her hips from him, doing her best to ignore his teasing. He grinned against the sweet skin of her inner thigh and bit her just so, “he protects his comrades by your grace, he follows…ah…he…” and she finally appeared to notice him, moaning as she resisted curling closer towards the heat of his mouth.

“You are…” She hissed suddenly as he suckled on the bite, “…distracting me…from the prayer, unwise Thane”.

Cullen chuckled and dragged his rough jawline into the crock between thigh and her sex, nose and mouth nuzzling the hair there, “Does that ever stop you? Keep going, lass.” The scent of her, so delicious, intoxicated him in a way ale never could. He inhaled her, breathing hot air over her dripping cunt as he spread her lips. Opening his mouth, he pressed his tongue to her folds and, intent on showing her just how distracting he could be, cruelly took his time licking a path to her clit.  

She groaned above him as she bucked her hips, “…h…he follows…your spirit into the rush of war…” Under his assault she was shivering in spite of how steady she was trying to keep voice, her core aching for him and only him as he traced the tip of tongue along the swollen bud. He flicked it playfully, the rumble of his laugh low in his throat as she made a small but pitched noise, like the chirp of a startled bird. He sucked it between his rough lips, ever so slightly running his teeth over it, lapping his tongue around it as one did to a piece of honey candy.

Eurydice’s voice hitched, “A—a…and in thanks of your b-bles…sings!” she let out a long whine as she rolling her hips into his mouth, his tongue sliding over her slick folds.

The heady taste of her coated his tongue, it filled his senses, the sounds a new song in his veins which rushed down to his stiffened and flush cock. Gods, he didn’t know what he preferred more: having her come undone now on his tongue or witnessing her squirm with desire as he ravished her.

What a sight it would be for some unsuspecting mutt if they walked in now—to see their Thane on his knees with his head up the skirt of the village’s augur, forcing out of her cries no one else would have dreamed to hear. Making her say her chants with such a pretty, lustful voice, “H-He’s won another battle. Please, we beseech you, listen to our calls.”

Callused fingertips caressed her sex, ready to stretch her wide and fuck her by the girth of three long digits, but the augur refused him.

The Thane made something of a sloppy gasp as he was abruptly pushed away from his meal by her foot placed square on his chest. Befuddled, he peered at her with his near-black eyes and licked his glistening lips, savoring the flavor of her.

Cast in the long cloak of shadows and the blaze of her fire Eurydice ceased, if only for an unfathomable second, to be of this world. There was no physical change to her, mind you—no ethereal shimmer or a snap into a more beautiful creature. It was only her as she was—large nosed, hair unruly as a bird’s nest, scarred and bony, violet eyes turned black and menacing as she tilted her head and studied him under her foot, subdued only by a hint of her control.

It was the power in her that struck him still. The promise of her magic flowing just underneath the pale surface, given to her by the whims of the spirit.

Bewitched—that is what his brother had called him. Cullen disagreed; to be ‘bewitched’ meant to lack consent and to be made dull by magic, but this was nothing he hadn’t pleaded for since he was child and had seen her, small and silver, across a river. He was aware and ravenous.

A Thane turned a pet at the beckoning of her hand.

Eurydice moved her foot along his chest, drawing her toe over the lines of his collarbone and up his throat. “It is your duty to begin the prayer, my Thane.” She declared as she stood up and undid the strings of her loose bodice and her skirt. The clothing dropped from her in a hush at her feet. She kicked them away as she stepped over Cullen and sat herself on his lap, his cock left helpless between the cheeks of her buttock.

Cullen grunted as she kissed the scar which cut down the corner of his mouth. “Not if you turn my mind to bloody mash.” He murmured gruffly.

She grind her ass against his cock with pitiless deliberation and kissed him soundly as he swore, swallowing his words and his air alike. Her hands traveled the length of his body as she pressed flush and fitted against him, scratching and caressing whatever she could grab. Her fingers found a scar just over his heart, a deep bite mark shaped like two rigid crescent moons—a gift from her from many moons ago so he could not forget. And even now, Cullen moaned roughly into her as her nails ran among the pale, sensitive flesh.

He wanted her—he wanted now, withering on top of him begging for her release but as he reached to grab her waist and guide her to where she rightfully belong, Eurydice took hold of his wrists and wrapped strings of magic around him, rendering him immobile.

“Pray, Cullen.” Eurydice ordered him softly as she pulled her swollen, red lips away and skated them over his cheeks, fluttering kisses here and there. “It is the Clan’s needs before the Thane’s. Pray for me.”

Korth’s Throne, what a villainous creature she was!

Cullen gave a choking laugh and countered, “Gods, lass. Have some mercy in your cold heart.”

“If the Thane wishes for the Gods to hear me cry his name, he must first make himself worthy enough. Pray for your people and you shall be heard.”

The augur leaned her body against his chest as to position her heated cunt over the tip of his cock. Cullen bared his teeth and shut his eyes, letting slip a gurgled and half mad groan. Eurydice touched her forehead to his and breathed out slowly as her hips rocked and brushed just over his cock, never dipping down far enough to let him enter. She held herself just far enough to give him a taste—and either he would crumble and obey or he would go insane, blabbering like a staved man for a crumb of food.

“I…I invoke thee to…bless my clan as you see fit.” He rasped, “Let the rain fall, to give life to their crops. Let the…wind of sickness stray from my H-Hold. Give us fish to—haahh!” Cullen gasped as Eurydice’s hands explored the plains of his body, nails gently racking over his taunt nipples. He struggled against her binds and her little tortures alike as she licked him here and there, her sharp canines dragging across rippling muscles, nearly begging for her to stop denying him.

She pinched one of his nipples, earning her another deep throated gasp.

“Louder, Thane. The Gods cannot hear you.”

Cullen’s eyes snapped open and flashed darkly at the augur—by Hakkon’s blade, he swore he was going to fuck her until her scream shattered the skies.

“—Give us fish to eat and game to hunt. Brighten our eyes with your wisdom. Hear the songs of our children so they may grow tall, strong, brave. Give us peace between alliances and comrades. Spirits…Gods, hear me, for the sake of my clan, I humble myself to no one but you.” He growled as savagely as if he were a chained lion trying to bite her, teeth and blazing black-fired eyes glimmering in the low light.

A purring resonated from Eurydice as she met his eyes but a short-lived second. “Good boy” she whispered and kissed his fanged mouth, her tongue sweeping delicately over his. Then, she scratched her claws down his chest and guided herself down his length, her sweet overflowing juices making her slick, shuddering all around him as she mewled.

There was nothing else quite like; of all the others he may have bedded, she was unforgettable and exquisite. The hottest, wettest, tightest, prettiest little thing he had ever been inside.

His breath fretted in his throat as he filled her completely and he wanted—oh, how he needed—more. Fraction, power, screaming, his battle lust and his sexual desire mingling his veins, calling out for a release only she could give. He wanted to rut her into the floor as an animal would, making her belly swell with his seed, witness as this stoic, stone-hearted lass came apart underneath him by his hands and his cock only.

As she settled around him, Eurydice let her bindings melt from his body with an incomprehensible hush. Free to move, Cullen took no time in grabbing her by the waist and roughly pushing her to the pelt. Her hair fell around her as if she were falling into snow, grey and silver tossed over her face—as if she were a moon colored spirit from one of his childhood tales visiting her mortal hero for one night of love before the sun’s touch swept her into another world.

He tore his prized necklace from himself and wrapped it around Eurydice’s wrists, placing them above her head and out of the way.

“It is your turn now, augur.” Cullen snarled and thrust into her, “Pray for your Thane’s prosperity.”

Eurydice arched her back, grinding against him, and whined, her violet gaze blown wide with ecstasy.

“Aaahh…Gods, bless our…T-thane Cullen Lion-Heart, gold as the sun…red as—uuh!—bl-blood…tamer of lions and men alik—AAA!” She wailed as he forced her trembling thighs farther apart, fucking her wet cunt deeper.

“More.” He grunted, branding his fingerprints into her skin, the sound of his flesh slapping against hers filling the air.

Stubborn creature that she was, the augur had bitten her lip in a futile attempt to swallow the tiny moans and mewls erupting from her. It was no use, of course—with another slam of his hips, Cullen watched with rapture as Eurydice cried out in delight, hips fighting in his hold, skin turning a lovely rosy shade as she panted on.

“Open your mouth, Lass—lest I do it for you.”

Eurydice strained a whimper, her wary but glassy gaze skating between Cullen’s face and where his cock was buried in her, before she appeared to submit herself to him completely with a slight nod of her head.

Her voice went brittle, shaking and shattering as he kept up his brutal pace, “K-Keep him well…Let! Ah, L…Leeeet not illness seep into his b-b-bones! Korth! Please! Strengthen his mighty blade and…and…and shield! Give—ah, Cu-Cullen!” Ah, there it is. The song he was waiting for. Cullen smirked as she thrashed about between him and her bonds, shock and excitement driving her on as he rolled her clit between his two fingers and thumb.

Eurydice hid her face in the crook of her elbow and prayed on; “Ga—Give hhhhh-him! Temperance, knowledge, valor, and courage to lead his clan. Allow his lands to be fertile and vast—his fortress unbreakable. Lead him to a maiden, dauntless and true, for him to steal as a bri—”

“No.” Cullen stilled his hips abruptly and glowered at her. “Not that one.”

Eurydice removed her head from her arm to look at him, her expression once more impassive in spite of her disheveled state. In the midst of the stifled silence, the two of them seemed to battle with only their eyes and wills for weapons—ceasing to be lovers to don their ranks as thane and augur once more.

In that breathless instant, Eurydice refused his command with only a tilt of her head and the divine grind of her hips. Cullen took in a sharp breath and groaned, moving his hips again if only by primal instinct. Still, as if compromising him, she spoke not of the last line of her prayer but instead: “By your grace, continue his blood line, give him children to carry his name.”

Lady of the Skies—she will be his death.

With a slur of cusses, Cullen crushed her soft body with his own. His hands wormed their way through her hair and to her leather bound hands, where their fingers intertwined. Eurydice latched her legs around him and edged him deeper into her.

“Cu—ll—en!” She sang his name.

He didn’t care if the Gods could hear her at this point. It was his melody to get lost in—and lost he very much was.

Cullen pressed his face into her hair and the crook of her neck, squeezing her hands until his knuckles turned white, the scent of her—smoke, sweat, and soil—overwhelming his senses. The sensation of her wrapped all around him enraptured him as well as any miscast spell would. He couldn’t get enough of her—she was too incredibly, too good for him to think past what she was and what he was feeling.

“Bless him! Bless my Thane!” She babbled on into his shoulder, her words slurring from their tongue to that of the elvish, the language of her birth. "Ar lath ma! Sathan!" 

He fucked her as thoroughly as he could but his pace was becoming erratic, messy—the rhythm of an animal speeding towards the edge.

Cullen whispered, “Let me fill you” and bit her pointed ear.

And Eurydice, her cunt tightening, her body tensing and arching, howled loud enough to split the sky and came screaming, “Yes!”

The Thane thanked his Gods for this creature as her wild convulsions and the sound of her whining keens threw him into blissful oblivion, light bursting like stardust across his eyes. 

The two of them lay limp and breathless, wrecked yet still riding the small waves of pleasure throbbing through them. Cullen closed his eyes as he twirled his fingers through her hair, listening to the soft rasp of her breath, the crackle of the fire, and the beating of their two hearts. In the distance, he heard a swell of laughter—the clan, carrying on with their merriment out of his sight. He was content with that and with this. He wanted to be.

He had to be.

Eurydice made a tiny pathetic sound as Cullen slid out of her and rolled off of her with a spent sigh, but she made no move to stop him. Rather, she sat up with the languid sway of a sated cat and shook the hair from her face, bringing her tied hands to her chest. Cullen laid on his stomach and watched her as she twisted her hands against the leather, gnawing a loop to pull it loose.

After minute of placid silence, he rubbed his palm over his eyes and asked her: “Why must you always ask for a bride?”

Eurydice stopped and spared him only a fleeting look from the corner of her eye, “It is my duty to do so.” There was a dismissiveness in her tone—as if she were a nerve worn parent explaining to a hard headed child something for the tenth time.

Cullen’s chest tightened with indignation, “Not in those matters.” He said with a frown.

“It is when my unwise Thane refuses to look for a wife. As is his duty.” Out from her was a tiny snarl as she bit down on the leather knot again and finally wretched free one hand, offhandedly adding, “You displease the Gods.”

Ah, and there it was: the crux of the conversation they had been having for what felt like eternity. Cullen could have laughed if he wasn’t so done with what he knew was her deflection—Eurydice used the will of Gods against his feelings as well as he used his shield against a bone breaking hammer.

He narrowed his eyes and responded, “The Gods have already lead me to the only woman I desire as my bride and that’s you, Eurydice.”

Cullen braced himself on his elbow and reached to help free her other hand. Eurydice snatched her arm away.

“No. I cannot be. No. I am not for you.” She said as she ran her hand over her braid continually, agitated fingers combing through the loose stands. She was shifting away from him, looking anywhere else but his face.

He lifted his hand lingering in the air before clenching it in a loose fist. There was a flinch in his face, a weak attempt to hide the hurt that was weeding under his features. He schooled it well enough, a Thane is taught such things early on after all, but the sour taste at the back of his mouth still stuck around. Rejection, even as one received it daily, wasn’t easy to swallow—but he was used it.

Shoulders slumped, Cullen sighed and sat up. “You don’t have to be ‘for me’. I am not without reason—and I do not need to kidnap a bride to make her my own. I just want you by my side.” He looked to her and then, just as shyly as she, turned away—because more than anything else, he was greedy for all of her.

Despite all his acceptance of the path she had gone down—the path he couldn’t even see much less follow—there wasn’t a day where he didn’t wish he steal her away and make her is in the eyes of all mortal men who craved her and the spirits around them.

Eurydice knew all this, too—but still, she came no closer. In fact, the notion of it stiffened her body and kept him from embracing her once again.

“Cullen—I am not a Thane’s wife. I am not. I am not a warrior. I will not bear you many children with this body. A Thane’s wife must be strong. She is your voice when you cannot speak and your sword when you cannot fight. I am…not that.” She muttered hoarsely and with a twinge of sadness, “I cannot…I am only for the Gods’ voice. You know this. Pick someone else.”

‘Pick someone else’—as if there was someone other than her. Selfish creature; deciding all on her own what was best for him. As if he had no brain of his own.

As Eurydice turned to tend to the deeming flames of the hearth, Cullen wrapped his arms around her body, pulling her back into his chest, and intertwined his hands with hers. The augur froze against him, her eyes flickering wide for an instant in shock, but she gave no warning sparks that he was unwanted. Gently, he nuzzled his nose in the nest of her hair, stubble rubbing over the sensitive skin of her ear.

“…Then tell me this. I obey your cruel order—I find a bride that is all you say. I kidnap her, I wed her, and I have you call upon Rilla to visit my bed as I take her.” He kissed her shoulder and felt a surge of electricity nipping at his hands as Eurydice’s fingers sparked to life. Still, he went on, lips caressing her jaw, “You will listen to her cry my name in your place and will be required to be satisfied. Is that what you want?”

Eurydice squeezed his hands, her magic going wild and then hastily dying down. “…I…” She uttered a small voice, “That is not what I want…No.”

“Then do not ask that of me. I made my peace long ago that I could never have you as a bride. It was what you wanted. Now I choose to not have another—it’s your time to make your peace with that.” He kissed her; first upon her brow, then beneath the eye, and then finally on her lips—each as precious as a kiss shared between two children.

Eurydice made a small noise and her body appeared to relax. Cullen took hold of her still bound wrist and started to undo the single knot as carefully as he would a wedding knot—and the thought of that was not lost to either of them.

Eurydice watched as the necklace came undone and told him, “…You will not be happy…”

Cullen huffed out a laugh, “Won’t I? Funny. I believe I am happy now to come to you at my leisure and share your hearth when you are agreeable. I am content with what we have. Are you happy?”

There wasn’t much of an answer of her, a light “…hm” and nothing more, but she was smiling. He couldn’t see it nor did he hear it, but it was there and caused his heart to flutter all the same.

Eurydice shifted around in his arms and held his necklace up in front of her, “Here…” she offered, raising her arms to put it around his neck, teeth clanking against one another.

Cullen shook his head and guided her hands down, “Ah…keep it for now. You should have something of me, as I have of you.”

Both their eyes darted down to his chest, to the shape of Eurydice’s bite in his skin. The augur almost appeared to blush but Cullen assumed it was just a trick of the firelight. The Thane took the necklace and put it around her neck as if he was crowning her with it.

He smiled, leaning back and drinking her in. It was a simple thing to add and yet, seeing her bathed in sweat and firelight, his prize hanging from her neck, the violet of her eyes somehow cutting through the shadows into him, it was all too perfect. No wonder the spirits flocked to her.

“…You are wrong, my unwise Thane. You are always with me.” Eurydice whispered quietly as she ran her thumb over the razor tip of one of the teeth. “Sometimes I wish you were a God so I could give my all to you—but then if you were, you would not be as interesting as you are now. Not interesting at all. And I would be lonely.”

She kissed him and slithered into his lap again, warm as heaven soft as snow, her fingers weaving through his hair.

Beyond the doorway came the swell of drums and a chorus of ale laced voices, the cheers of their clan extending high towards the mountains as their celebration carried on well into the night.

Eurydice looked to the noise, “Your people sing your name again. Will you not go with them?”

“And suffer a headache? No, I think not. Let them have their fun and I…” Cullen paused and observed her with adoring, bright amber eyes, gold and melting as mead in a glass. “I will stay here and have mine. If I am welcome, that is.”

Eurydice stared at him and with a snap of her wrist, she commanded the hearth to burn anew. “Yes.” She said as she kissed him again, “My hearth will always be yours.”


End file.
